


Mystery Flavor

by undertailsoulsex



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Body Paint, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), Edible Body Paint, Exhibitionism, Fontcest, Food Kink, Gags, Incest, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Quiet Sex, Sensitive bones, Sibling Incest, Soul Sex, Unintentional Incest, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undertailsoulsex/pseuds/undertailsoulsex
Summary: Papyrus is excited about the sexy, anonymous nightlife at SkeleCon, the annual skeleton convention.But will he be able to fulfill all his fantasies? ;3





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PurrfecktlySinful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrfecktlySinful/gifts).



> This is a giftfic for Purrfecktlysinful ([Tumblr](https://purrfecktlysinful.tumblr.com)/[AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrfecktlySinful/pseuds/PurrfecktlySinful))! I hope you have a great birthday! :D
> 
> (Sorry for the quality of this fic. OTL I WROTE THIS WHILE I WAS REALLY, **REALLY** THIRSTY! So I don't even know if it covers any of your kinks well, I'm so sorry u_u)
> 
> Thanks to [Alldrawnup ](https://purrfecktlysinful.tumblr.com) for providing some information on color theory for this fic! n_n YOU'RE THE BEST!

Papyrus’s soul was bursting with energy.

It was late, and after such a long day walking around SkeleCon, he knew that he should be falling over with exhaustion. From the panels to the photoshoots to the meetups with likeminded skeletons at the convention, he and Sans had been quite busy for the last twelve hours. So much so that upon returning to their hotel room, his brother had immediately shrugged off his clothes to the floor in a messy pile and had flopped onto the bed. His quiet snores had filled the room soon afterward.

Papyrus, too, should have been ready to collapse after their eventful day.

But tonight was his night.

He had been looking forward to it for months – since last year’s session, if he were to be honest with himself – and now that he was so close to the main event, he could hardly contain himself. His soul was fluttering violently against his sternum, like a caged hummingbird flinging itself against the bars, desperate for freedom.

His slot was for eleven, but he had been instructed to get there an hour early so that the hosts could prepare accordingly. The theme was different each year, after all, and one never knew exactly what to expect. The email had mentioned a particularly promising premise for this year’s event: “taste.” Cooking had always been a favorite hobby of his, especially since moving to the Surface, so he was anxious to find out what the hosts had in store for them this evening.

Just five more minutes and he would know. Five more minutes and he could head downstairs. Only five minutes and he would be able to check in. Five more minutes.

But those five minutes were an eternity. He kept jerking his head towards the hotel room’s alarm clock, worried that he would somehow lose track and miss his appointment. Yet time seemed to have stopped. He tapped his foot against the bed, waiting, waiting, waiting for the clock’s digital display to change.

Finally, _finally_ , the display changed. How could this take so long?! He smacked the mattress and let out a loud huff of frustration.

“bro?”

Papyrus stilled completely, panic gripping his body. How could he have been so stupid? Now his brother knew he was awake! No, no. Maybe if he closed his eyes, pretended he was asleep, Sans would –

“papyrus?” his brother called out into the dark, his voice fraught with worry. “what’s wrong?”

So much for that plan.

Papyrus sat up, looked over toward the other bed, and saw Sans staring at him, sleepiness clinging to his eye sockets. His brother was cocking an inquisitive brow at him and despite his obvious exhaustion, he looked ready to fling himself from the bed at a moment’s notice to comfort him.

Papyrus held back a groan, racking his mind for some excuse that would get Sans to go back to sleep.

“NOTHING, BROTHER!” he choked out. “I AM JUST EXCITED ABOUT TOMORROW!”

Please let that be enough. He just wanted him to go back to sleep. Then he could sneak out of here quietly, his brother none the wiser. That was the point of the whole thing, wasn’t it? Completely anonymous and Sans would never ever know about his escapades. Just the way Papyrus liked it!

His brother chuckled tiredly. “i thought you were excited about today?”

“I AM EXCITED ABOUT EVERY DAY!”

“yeah, but you said you were _really_ looking forward to today.”

Papyrus squirmed in his bed, desperate to end the conversation. “I THINK YOU MAY BE CONFUSED! TOMORROW IS THE DAY I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO. I AM GOING TO MEET UP WITH ALL OF MY FRIENDS FROM LAST YEAR!”

“mm, that’s nice, bro. but you already met with them today, right?”

He suddenly realized what would get Sans to leave him alone for sure.

“AND TOMORROW IS THE PANEL ON PROPER DIET AND EXERCISE,” he scolded. “I AM MOST INTERESTED IN WHAT THEY HAVE TO SAY ABOUT GREASY FOODS.”

“ugh,” Sans moaned, as he twisted to face the opposite wall. “never mind, forget i said anything.”

Papyrus hoped that would be the end of it and that Sans would be snoozing away again in a few moments. But then, of course, his brother decided to talk more.

“you should really try to calm down though, bro. it’s real late already.”

Papyrus glanced at the clock and his soul dropped in his chest. Only two minutes left until he was supposed to leave and here he was talking to his brother, the last person on the planet that needed to know about any of this.

“YOU ARE RIGHT! I SHOULD SLEEP! SO I WILL JUST… GO DOWNSTAIRS AND FIND SOME TEA,” Papyrus invented wildly. “THAT WILL… HELP!”

He had no idea who would be serving tea at this hour, but he was desperate for an excuse now. Anything to get his brother to leave him alone. He just hoped Sans was too tired to realize how stupid he sounded right now.

“sounds good, bro,” his brother murmured. “just don’t talk to any strangers.”

Talking to strangers wouldn’t be an issue tonight. Speaking wasn’t allowed.

Papyrus flung himself from the bed, his head darting all around to make sure Sans wasn’t following him. When he finally entered the empty elevator, he let out a heavy sigh, sliding against the back wall.

Every year it was getting more and more difficult to tear himself away from his brother during his night, his excuses weaker each time. Last time Sans had stayed up _all night_ waiting for him to return after he had told him he was going to be having some dinner with friends from the convention. He had been worried sick about him, and Papyrus certainly couldn’t blame him – if his brother had disappeared with near-strangers for several hours, he would be racing around the hotel, searching every corner for him.

But tonight was _his_ night. And he couldn’t let Sans know about that.

It wasn’t exactly a secret. Almost every skeleton at the convention knew about the underground event, though few participated in it. Word of mouth spread quickly on the internet, and as an aficionado and master of cyberspace, he, the Great Papyrus had quickly discovered the event on unofficial forums after purchasing tickets for the first annual SkeleCon. All it had taken was a few clicks and a few answers on a questionnaire about preferences and dislikes, and he had been on his way.

The elevator reached the bottom floor and Papyrus stepped out to the massive, brightly-lit lobby. The room stretched for several stories, ending with an enormous skylight that provided life for the potted plants below. His footsteps echoed loudly on the marbled tile floor as he passed a handful of drunken, giggling skeletons that hovered outside the hotel gift shop. With an air of confidence that he didn’t feel, he rushed past the concierge desk to a door marked for “STAFF ONLY.” On the other side was a long, narrow hallway lined with tarnished silver wall chandeliers and doorways to various staff rooms. As Papyrus made his way down the hall, he saw only one other person – a human dressed in a red bellman’s outfit who kindly averted his gaze as they crossed paths.

He turned a corner and another corner and then another, again and again, until he found himself facing a plain-looking, unmarked door at the very end of a hallway. His soul beating rapidly in his chest, he firmly knocked three times. A brief moment later, the door cracked open and a skeleton with a black veil over their head peeked out, looking him up and down. As soon as Papyrus gave a quick nod of his head, the other skeleton stepped behind the door and flung it open.

As he entered, he had only a few moments to register his surroundings. Clothing racks lined with an assortment of coats, costumes, and dresses. Bright floor lamps that cast a warm glow over the room. Buckets of colorful paint that encircled a white massage table. Suddenly he found himself being spun around to face the other skeleton. Papyrus hardly blinked when he saw that they wore nothing but their veil and a black leather collar – the preparation team rarely wore clothes. He did, however, note the long, cracking scar that traced from their sternum to their clavicle.

He didn’t have long to dwell on it; suddenly two other sets of bony hands were grabbing at his clothes from behind, dragging them slowly to the ground. Once his body was completely bare, the scarred skeleton pushed him backwards gently, guiding him to the massage table at the center of the room. With shaky arms, Papyrus lifted himself upwards, a sharp chill shooting through his bones as he slid against the cool, smooth leather. Once he pressed his skull backwards onto the raised headrest, two other veiled skeletons – one short and slender, the other tall and big-boned – came into view.

They silently bent down, and Papyrus could hear them ruffling through bags, clanking against unseen metallic objects, as the scarred skeleton moved to the foot of the table. Their face expressionless, they leaned forward and gripped Papyrus’s femurs and slowly spread his legs wide.

Papyrus didn’t flinch, though his soul was doing somersaults at the touch. It was unusual for this amount of intimacy during the preparation stage. Usually the team would undress him, put him in a costume and mask, maybe apply some makeup for the cameras, and then unleash him onto his anonymous partner for the evening. But as the shorter skeletons snapped back into view carrying small paintbrushes and palettes of paint, Papyrus suddenly understood why he had been scheduled to come down here so early and just how intimate these skeletons were going to be.

Papyrus watched with fascination as the shorter skeleton handed a small, pointed paintbrush to the scarred skeleton. They quickly made their way to the head of the table, gently dipping the brush inside of a swatch of bright green paint as they walked. All the while, the other two skeletons began to work. Papyrus’s breath caught, his hips rolling forward, as they stroked along his sacrum with the brushes in tiny, feather-light motions. When he tried to tilt his head forward to see exactly what they were doing, the scarred skeleton held him by the shoulder, shaking their head.

Papyrus nodded and lay back onto the pillow, though as he felt the cool wetness of paint on his sensitive bones, he couldn’t help but jerk and twist against the leather. It wasn’t enough to trigger his magic, but it left him panting, his soul tingling with need. But despite his twitching and gasping, he didn’t let a single word escape his mouth; after he had been gagged for being too loud during his first year, he had no desire to ever have it happen again.

For a couple of minutes, all the scarred skeleton did was stand at the head of the bed and stare at Papyrus as he writhed underneath the others monsters’ touches. Then, after giving an approving nod, they inched their veil upwards to reveal their mouth and deftly drew the fabric into small metal hoops that attached near their temples. A sharp crackle of energy fizzled through the air and when the other skeleton opened their mouth, a cyan tongue rolled out. Papyrus’s soul convulsed with lust, but he held back his magic; it would not be appropriate to summon anything _here_ of all places. But still, his soul was itching. He had been waiting all this time and seeing Sans’s color on another skeleton’s tongue, even if it was a common color, did not help matters at all.

The scarred skeleton pointed to their tongue and then to Papyrus’s skull. It took him a moment – the brushing below was more than distracting now that he had his brother on his mind – but he hurriedly copied them and summoned his own orange tongue. As soon as he extended the appendage outwards, the other skeleton nodded and pressed the paint-coated brush to it. His taste buds tingled with the sharp, citrusy bite of limes, and understanding flowed through Papyrus in a rush: “taste.”

His soul was practically humming now.

Beaming brilliantly, Papyrus nodded, and as the other skeleton lowered their veil again, he noticed the shadow of a grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. A reassuring warmth mixed with the nervous fluttering in his chest as the other skeleton bent down to the ground, disappearing from Papyrus’s line of sight. The other skeletons continued to skim along the surface of his bones below, and Papyrus sank into the leather cushioning, soaking in the unfamiliar touches. He became so engrossed with the motions, he almost didn’t notice when the scarred skeleton reappeared with a large painter’s brush, dripping with splatters of tangerine. They began to stroke up and down his arm in long, sweeping movements, and soon his limbs matched the color of his magic.

It wasn’t long until Papyrus became used to the skeletons’ touch, and his mind returned to the event at hand. His soul twisted in anticipation. After waiting all year for this, he really wanted this to go well. The hidden cameras, all of the attention, the knowledge that he was being broadcast to the world – he could deal with all of that. Audiences didn’t really bother him all that much. In fact, they just made the whole thing more thrilling.

No, for him, the success of the event hinged on whomever the hosts chose as his partner.

Papyrus wasn’t _that_ picky. The questionnaire he had filled out weeks ago had been so long and detailed. And he had only cared about three things: first, that the other skeleton could keep up with his stamina – he had quite a bit of energy, as his brother always reminded him, and that was no exception in the bedroom; secondly, that his partner have just as open a mind as him; and finally, and most importantly, that the stranger be short and stout.

Guilt needled his soul as he thought about the last requirement. He knew it was sick and twisted, but this night was about living out his deepest fantasies. And those fantasies always included Sans. So every year he would list his specifications so that he could imagine it was his brother writhing and moaning beneath him. The hosts hadn’t always been able to make a match – only so many skeletons participated, and it was difficult to accommodate everyone’s preferences – but when they had, Papyrus had experienced some of the best moments of his life.

A sharp gasp escaped his mouth as the skeletons abruptly turned him around, lifting his pelvis upwards so that his lower half was raised in the air. The position was humiliating, and if he were on camera right now, he would use his safe signal to stop the whole thing right now. But Papyrus took solace in the fact that the hosts never broadcast anything from preparation time. Anonymity was sacred to them, which was why they all had to be silent during the event; hearing a skeleton’s distinctive voice would easily reveal their identity.

The skeletons swept along the underside of his tailbone, the back of his ribcage, the crest of his skull, along each bone in his body, their brushes burrowing into every nook and cranny. And even though his skull would soon be masked, they even drew on his face, the paint swirling and dancing along his cheekbones and chin in elaborate designs. By the end, the three skeletons had become more familiar with his body than any other monster. They knew every sensitive spot that left him reeling and each crack and scar that ran through his bones.

And yet he hadn’t even come to the main event yet.

The skeletons helped him off the table, careful not to scrape the careful patterns that they had so meticulously painted. As soon as his feet found purchase on the tile floor, he glanced down and couldn’t help but gasp as he took in the sight. His legs and arms were slathered in bright orange, broken by the thin, branching rivulets of green that traveled up his limbs and to his torso. His phalanges were a rainbow of colors, and as he twitched them, they shimmered under the bright light. An assortment of colorful floral designs were scattered across his upper half and along his legs. His sternum was painted pitch black except for a small, upside-down cyan heart in the very center.

But what sent a ripple of elation through his soul was how much time and effort the team had devoted to his pelvis. The bone was bathed in a variety of soft colors, providing a gentle background for the design they had layered on top. Hundreds of tiny, multicolored dots flecked across his bone, dipping into the holes of his sacrum, arching along the curves of the ilium, and tapering to a point along his pubis. It was difficult to see all of the details, but as he bent forward, tilting his pubic bone upwards, he realized that the intricate latticework formed a sweeping heart-shaped design.

A quiver of giddiness rippled through him and he bounced up and down in a silent little jig. Tiny pinpricks of elated tears formed in his eye sockets. He couldn’t believe that someone had poured so much attention and detail over his bones just so that he would look good for his audience. It was amazing!

There was a tap on his shoulder and he trained his eyes up towards the scarred skeleton. Papyrus was so close to them now that he could see their wide smile through the thin black fabric of their veil. He returned the gesture, and as he did so, one of the other skeletons fastened a mask over his eyes, limiting Papyrus’s peripheral vision, but concealing his distinctive facial structure. Once it was secure, the other skeleton wrapped his skull in a black veil, fastening the loose material inside the metal hoops against his skull so that his mouth was open to the air.

The three of them stepped back, looking him up and down before they each gave him a thumb’s up sign. Papyrus huffed out his chest, standing proudly as he copied their signal. The shorter skeleton tittered quietly into their hand, and the sound echoed loudly in the room after the extended silence.

The scarred skeleton clapped their hands twice in quick succession and with a pointed nod, ordered the other two skeletons to leave the room. As they scurried away, Papyrus’s soul tightened. It was about to start. Only a couple minutes more and then he’d be losing himself, unwinding all of the tension that had spooled within him over the last year.

After a quick verification that Papyrus knew all of his signals – “stop,” “slow down,” “keep going”, and the sign to flag the hosts and end the event should he need to – the scarred skeleton led him back through the hallway to another unmarked door. They jostled with the doorknob for a few moments, threw it open, and gave one last encouraging nod as Papyrus stepped through the threshold.

He had to admit they had done a great job this year.

The room was bright, much brighter than usual. Dozens of brilliant bulbs lined the light grey walls and ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. In years past they had kept the room dim so that the hosts could preserve the intimacy of the event, but it had led to recording fiascos in the past. This lighting offered a comfortable balance between the warmth of the moment and the needs of the audience.

And angles wouldn’t be an issue this year. Papyrus spotted several cameras hanging from all corners of the room, and he knew there were probably dozens of unseen ones, waiting to capture every moment of the evening. Those that viewed from the internet would be able to switch between feeds for the best position.

Though they wouldn’t be the only ones watching; several collared skeletons kneeled on the tile floor, their backs set against the walls and skulls bent towards the ground. They were the hosts’ servants, ready to step in should either of the participants need aid. In years past, they had even helped to bind other skeletons’ hands when the moment called for it.

Along the innermost wall, in between two collared servants, sat a large cart, covered with a variety of food. Although Papyrus couldn’t see it all that well from where he stood, he noted the large vat of melted chocolate and piles of exotic fruit that were spread on the surface. The scents lingered in his nasal cavity, eliciting a tingle of excitement in his soul.

The rightmost wall consisted of a large mirror that extended from the floor to the ceiling, making the room appear larger than it actually was. Papyrus was sure that it went two ways and that there were several cameras lined along the other side, ready to capture every moment of the performance. Sure enough, as he gazed into reflection, he spotted a large, white bed, and right in the center of his bed was a splash of colors, darkened by the black veil that covered his eyes.

He twisted his head to the left and held back a gasp. The colorful puddle was not part of the blanket’s design as he had originally thought; it was, in fact, his partner for the evening, painted as vibrantly and thoroughly as he had been. The colors were in direct contrast to his – where there were orange splatters splayed on Papyrus’s arms, their paint was light blue. A series of impressionist dots lined their pelvis, forming a large heart nearly identical to his own.

But what really set his soul aflutter was the size of his partner –small and stout, just as he had requested. That, combined with the light blue color that dominated their color scheme, made Papyrus almost sigh with relief; there would be no problems with fantasizing tonight.

The other skeleton lifted their head, their black veil flowing from their skull, and that was when Papyrus noticed the gag. Straps of black leather wrapped around their jaw, and squeezed tightly between their teeth was a bright red ball in the shape of a large cherry. This one must have been loud during preparation. Papyrus’s soul gave a little twist of delight.

Taking a deep breath, he sauntered to the bed, sashaying his hips in an exaggerated fashion for both the cameras and his partner. As Papyrus approached his partner, he realized with a start that their soul was already summoned outwards, hovering slightly above their sternum. A thrill ran through his bones when he noticed three yellow bullet-shaped vibrators attached to the humming white organ. Papyrus had never seen anything prepared like that beforehand. Half the fun of the event was figuring out the other skeleton’s kinks and desires. They must have made a special request for it in their questionnaire.

He climbed onto the bed and over his partner skeleton – his brother now, Papyrus reminded himself – who was breathing heavily, his ribcage rising and falling in quick succession. Sans – it was Sans in his mind now, it truly was – gripped the pristine blankets beneath him. Narrow streams of sweat were pouring down his arms, causing the paint to muddy together into puddles of teal before they ran off his bone.

Now that wouldn’t do. Papyrus wanted to taste every little bit of him.

With a firm, but gentle grip, he brought his brother’s left hand to his face. Like his own fingers, each phalange was painted a different shade.

He extended his tongue and wrapped it around his brother’s pinkish-red thumb and sweetness undercut with a soft tartness – strawberries – coated his taste buds. As he retracted his tongue, Sans squirmed against the covers, his breathing still fast and erratic. After a few moments of immobility, the smaller skeleton motioned for him to continue.

With a sly grin, Papyrus brought the orange index finger to his mouth, and this time he placed the tip of his brother’s phalange inside, nipping softly at the sweet, acidic tangerine bone. Next the yellow middle finger – and Papyrus pushed it further inside, sucking and savoring the sweet pineapple flavor. Then the chartreuse – lime, the same as earlier – and he twirled his tongue all around it, lapping at the sharp tang. Finally, he pressed the purple pinky all the way inside to the roof of his mouth, tasting every last bit of grape paint. When he released it, he cast a gentle smile down at the skeleton below him.

Sans waved his hand, motioning again for Papyrus to “keep going.” And he had no problems obliging.

He stretched his tongue outwards again and licked a languid, wet stripe up his brother’s arm, lingering on every little bump and imperfection so that he could relish both the taste of blueberries and the shivers that ran through Sans’s bones. When he reached the clavicle, he eviscerated the elaborate strawberry-flavored roses, his teeth softly nibbling at the thin bone, prompting a muffled groan from his partner.

Just as his mouth neared his brother’s neck, Papyrus let out a sharp gasp as he felt fingers trailing up and down his lower spine. Leaning upwards, he stretched and curved his back as Sans dawdled along every disc and facet. Another hand, the one that Papyrus had just been suckling on, tugged gently at his ribs, shooting tiny tingles of pleasure through his body. As his brother continued to play with the sensitive bones, he let out the occasional moan, though never allowing his voice to carry above a whisper lest he be suddenly silenced by the onlookers. When he looked down he saw Sans’s mouth curve upwards around his gag in a cocky grin.

Oh, Papyrus would have none of that.

The smile disappeared as he writhed just out of reach from his brother’s touch. Sans signed for Papyrus to keep going, but he ignored it and chose instead to gently lower his hand until he was but half an inch away from touching his brother’s brightly glowing soul. The organ was wrapped in a white aura that hummed with magical energy, tickling his hand. He hadn’t ever done anything with a soul before, though he heard that the tiniest touch could drive a monster wild. It was tricky though; without firm and even massages, it was almost impossible to orgasm from touching a soul alone.

He pressed a finger to the vibrating organ, dipping into the warm, malleable surface, and the reaction was instantaneous. Sans released a muffled yelp, and clutched at Papyrus’s femurs, his fingers scraping against the bone desperately. Invigorated by the reaction, Papyrus pushed two more fingers against the soul and whirled them around in small circles. The magical vibrations beneath his hand intensified and sharp tingles, neither pleasurable nor uncomfortable, shot up his arm. Sans was shouting something over and over now, and although he was rendered incomprehensible by the gag, Papyrus could tell he was crying for more. He massaged more deeply and the heated magical aura transformed and expanded.

Sans’s hands slid from Papyrus’s femurs and fell onto the bed. Bone clanked loudly against bone as Sans thrust his pelvic bone upwards to meet Papyrus’s.

Now that wasn’t what he wanted. Every time their sensitive bones met, pleasure ran up his bones, making his head dizzy. But if his brother continued he would mess up the intricate designs below. It was much too early for that – Papyrus wanted to keep his intact for a while longer.

But he wasn’t opposed to ruining his brother’s beautiful heart if he was so eager for it.

Papyrus removed his fingers and slid away so that their bones could not touch. His partner leaned up on his elbows, his frenzied protests stifled by the gag. But once Papyrus switched one of the vibrators on, filling the room with a low buzzing noise, the attempts to communicate gave way to sharp, muffled cries. Sans fell back onto the bed, writhing and clasping at the bed desperately.

Eager to put his plan into action, Papyrus crawled off the bed. With strength capable only of the Great Papyrus, he quickly dragged his brother to the edge of the mattress. His bones left vibrant rivers of colors in his wake, staining the blankets beneath. Now that he had easy access to Sans’s pelvis, he knelt down and swirled his tongue along the sacrum, at the very center of the heart. He delighted in the rush of fruity flavors that filled his mouth and immediately returned for more, dipping in between every notch and inlet. When the sacrum was cleaned of every bit of paint, he moved next to the ilium, lingering along the delicate inward curves as his brother squirmed and panted beneath him.

Hungry for the main course, Papyrus left behind large splotches of color as he drifted to the point of the heart along the pubis. His tongue twisted and twirled along the sensitive bone, memorizing every groove of the bone. Sans was bucking his hips wildly now, forcing Papyrus to hold him steady as he went faster and faster. Despite his swiftness, Papyrus was unable to lick up all of the paint before a sharp crackle of magic tingled through the bone and he found himself nudging against the other skeleton’s dripping opening.

Their dripping _cyan_ opening.

Papyrus paused and looked up as he felt his lust manifest below. His partner was gripping at the sheets, twisting and mumbling through his gag as the vibrations continued to wrack his soul. It was amazing how well the hosts had done this year. Blue magic. Short and stubby. And they hadn’t come yet, despite his ministrations, and that had to count for something, right?

Oh stars, how he longed to just plunge deep inside this skeleton who wasn’t really Sans – but oh, how he wished it was him – and just ravage them all night long.

But first he wanted a little taste. After all, he, the Great Papyrus, was a culinary connoisseur and had to try everything at least once.

He gave a swift swipe of his tongue across his brother’s slit, tasting the sweet juices that had already begun to leak out. The tart taste went amazingly with the other flavors that clung to his mouth, and the sharp intake of air from his partner was more than enough encouragement to return for more. He delved in, at first only peeking his tongue inside tentatively, but then pushing further in, lapping desperately at his brother’s walls. Deeper and deeper and deeper until Papyrus was stretching his tongue as far as it could go, sucking at the exquisite taste. Sans was crying out, wrapping his legs tightly around Papyrus’s head, and Papyrus could feel the desperation in his movements, the way the magic was clenching around his tongue, and Sans was going to come apart any second now, any second, any second.

Papyrus backed away with a loud squishing noise.

His partner let out a loud huff and desperately clambered at Papyrus’s head, pushing him back towards the opening. But Papyrus had other ideas.

He stood up and quickly turned on another vibrator, eliciting another shout from his brother. Sans was twitching on the bed, the blankets twisting beneath his bones, puddles of drool pooling around his gag. It was mesmerizing to watch his movements, so erratic and desperate yet beautiful. He stood there for a minute, just staring at his brother lustfully and had to give himself a little shake to make himself move.

He rushed to the cart of food, eyeing his pickings. There were the vat of chocolate and pile of fruit he had spotted earlier, and Papyrus was sorely tempted to use a banana for his plan. But he knew he shouldn’t rush, he wanted to make sure there weren’t any other better choices. So he let his eyes wander around the metal surface and… oh! Sitting in a metal bowl, atop a pile of ice, were several bisicles, each shaded a different color. He hadn’t seen one of these since his days in the Underground!

They were perfect.

Papyrus snapped up a green bisicle and made his way back to the other skeleton. His brother’s hands were now rubbing at his magic furiously, his legs spread wide before the mirror. His muffled moans were intoxicating. It was tempting to just watch as he got himself off before the audience, but Papyrus had something even better in mind.

He dashed to the bed and removed his brother’s hands. With a low, throaty whine, Sans frantically tried to make the “keep going” signal, but Papyrus merely smiled and shook his head before dragging him upwards into a sitting position. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders to support him as he waved the bisicle in front of his face. His soul shuddered in delight as Sans nodded rapidly, spreading his legs wider in response to the unasked question.

But before he got started, he grasped his brother’s hand and pulled it into air, hovering just above his glowing orange length. The corners of Sans’s mouth twitched upwards and he made a small noise as he yanked his hand out of Papyrus’s. His hand drifted down, down, down until – Papyrus let out a sharp gasp – he gently grazed the tip. His brother made muted sounds of amusement as he wrapped around the erection and began to stroke up and down in long, languid movements. Papyrus clenched his teeth together, choking back the moans that threatened to escape his mouth.

In one swift movement, he brought the double-stick popsicle to his brother’s folds. Once it made contact, Sans surged forward, his breath hitching. He grappled at Papyrus’s hand fiercely as the bisicle slipped inside. Papyrus looked up at the mirror across the room, watching with fascination as he pushed the frozen treat deeper, stretching Sans wider and wider.

Once he had gone as far as possible, he rocked the popsicle back and forth. At first he went slowly, captivated by the way the treat was visible through the translucent magic. But soon the ice began to melt, spilling into his brother and onto the blankets, and he pumped faster and faster. It was amazing how Sans clenched down on the bisicle, his canal swallowing and sucking at it, as if it longed to gobble it all up.

And all the while, Sans matched Papyrus’s pace along his length, his gentle tugs becoming increasingly firmer. Soon Papyrus’s mind was going fuzzy, his hand movements jerky as he continued to drive the bisicle inside his brother. The other skeleton was good at this, much too good. He couldn’t concentrate enough to pump anymore; he had to muffle himself before he shouted, before he gave away his identity. Desperate, he brought his hand to his mouth as Sans gave a final tight squeeze. His hips stuttered forward and he went blind from pleasure as his release shot through the air.

It took him a few moments to come down from his high, his chest heaving with pleasure. But as he came to, he realized he could hear loud squelching noises. He opened his eyes. The other skeleton was pushing the bisicle inside himself, the treat making a colorful mess on the blankets as it fell apart. His partner’s chest heaved with tiny little gasps as he massaged small circles against his clitoris.

His desperation was apparent. All he wanted was release.

And yet Papyrus denied him again.

With a loud sucking noise, he snatched the popsicle out of his brother’s grasp and threw it to the side. Green and cyan slush spilled from his opening and the sight renewed Papyrus’s hunger. Before Sans could protest at his latest denial, Papyrus pushed him to the bed and bent over him to suck at the juices. As his tongue grazed along the crevice, a shiver ran down his bones. It was so much colder than before – how could Sans stand this? Stars, his brother had been doing it to himself!

But, oh, it was so delicious.

He lapped at the folds, dipping inside occasionally to draw out more of his brother’s essence. His ministrations were little more than teasing, he knew, but he just couldn’t help himself. The way the other skeleton squirmed and panted and moaned as he got so, so close to orgasm was just too enjoyable. He knew he was going to have to let him release soon. After all, the night was young, and Papyrus had so much more in him. He had to know if this skeleton was up to snuff.

He pumped his length quickly as he sank further inside, a smattering of colorful fluids smeared across his chin. It was icy cold against his mouth, but his rapid movements were making quick work of that problem. As soon as Papyrus was sure his brother was warmed up enough, he wasted no time. He pulled away, picked Sans up, and set him on his lap so that he sat with his back flush to Papyrus’s chest.

It wasn’t clear if his partner was even aware of what was going on anymore. Their head rolled on their shoulders and their limbs were limp and pliant, allowing Papyrus to do whatever he chose. Papyrus’s soul squirmed. He certainly hoped they were okay for more. To be sure, he made a quick “keep going” motion and then pointed to their chest. It took a few moments, but they nodded rapidly and weakly copied the signal.

It was all Papyrus needed. They were his brother again. So small in his arms. So beautiful and gentle. And most importantly, all his. Papyrus gave him a reassuring hug and nuzzled his shoulder before he turned on the last vibrator.

Sans jerked against his arms as his soul glowed brightly, illuminating their immediate surroundings. A low rumbling reverberated through Papyrus’s body and for a moment, he thought he was somehow feeling the vibrations of the toys. When he realized it was his brother releasing a low, aching moan from deep within his chest, Papyrus had to hold back a groan of his own.

Oh, stars. Could he get any cuter?

Unable to wait a moment longer, Papyrus lifted him by his thick femurs and aligned the tip of his erection to the blue magic before slowly lowering Sans inch by inch. The lingering coolness of the bisicle juice squished against his length, dribbling out in thick rivulets. Once he was fully seated, he took a moment to check on his brother. His breaths came sharp and quick, and he held bunched-up wads of blankets in his hands, but otherwise he seemed fine. More than fine by the way he had begun to gyrate his hips.

Without further ado, Papyrus wrapped one arm around Sans and began to plunge in and out, his movements even but quick. His brother leaned backwards, his head rolling onto Papyrus’s shoulder as he garbled out some speech that was lost behind his gag. Papyrus bowed his head and began to suckle at the other skeleton’s neck, tasting all of the fruity paint that he hadn’t been able to indulge in earlier. He nipped gently at the bone, taking delight in the small little squeaks that Sans was now giving.

As he continued his thrusts, he glanced towards their reflections and watched the orange and blue magic part and then meet together. The cameras there were probably trained on their connection, and the thought made him redouble his speed. After all, he wanted to put on a good show for the audience.

He was so engulfed in his efforts that it came as a surprise when he felt Sans suddenly clamping down on him, his spine arched as he let out a fierce shout. His brother’s walls were pulling him in, trying to suck him all the way back inside, even as Papyrus continued to rock in and out. He couldn’t come yet; he wasn’t ready. And so he rode out his brother’s orgasm, delighting in the way it gripped him so tightly.

As soon as Sans’s trembling finished, Papyrus abruptly pulled him off his lap and threw him onto the bed, his body bouncing against the mattress. He stooped at his brother’s feet, grabbing him by the hip bones, and pulled him up so that he could quickly reenter. His length stabbed to the hilt and for a few moments he lost himself, stabbing with reckless abandon, the sounds of their pelvic bones clanking in the silence.

But then a sudden longing to be close to his brother shot through his soul. As he maintained his breakneck pace, he leaned down and kissed the skeleton that was his brother – definitely his brother, oh please, stars, please – from his veiled brow to his covered cheeks to his gagged up mouth. He grasped blindly for Sans’s hand, gripping all along the spoiled sheets. When he finally found it, he squeezed tightly, trying to convey all the things he felt for him.

Whines of pleasure were falling from his mouth and it was taking every bit of willpower now not to scream out his brother’s name as he went deeper and deeper. Oh, stars, if he could one day do this with the real Sans he would just – just –

And with that Papyrus came, his vision fuzzy, his mind a wreck, as he continued pumping in and out, spilling his magical seed inside his brother. His release was long and hard, and he savored the warmth of his own release swishing around him.

But even as he came down from his high, he didn’t stop moving.

This was why he always requested someone that could withstand his stamina. Because once his lust was fully awakened it was too difficult for him to stay still. His soul was now screaming at him to ravage his older brother, to make it so he couldn’t walk in the morning. He squeezed Sans’s hand tighter as he continued to impale him, rejoicing in the way he wrapped so perfectly around him. Soon his brother was coming again, and then him, and then Sans, and then him again, over and over and over in so many different positions.

At some point Papyrus took a break between releases to drink from Sans, their essences mixing together with all of the paint and juice in a burst of flavor. But he couldn’t stay still for long, and even though his thirst wasn’t satiated, he shortly found himself burrowing inside his brother again.

And through it all, the other skeleton kept up. Oh, they were dazed throughout it all, but when Papyrus paused to ask if they needed to stop, they would weakly sign for more. It was amazing how many times the two of them were able to come.

Even more amazing was that his partner was not the one to end the session. Some hours in, after a particularly heated orgasm, a collared skeleton tapped on his shoulder and indicated that their time was up.

When he backed away, he saw that his partner was a useless bag of twitching bones. The vibrators were still turned on, buzzing faintly against their fiercely glowing soul, the batteries clearly almost dead. Blue drool was cascading freely down their chin and neck, and their breaths came in shallow rasps. They were awake – their skull jerked in Papyrus’s direction as he climbed off the bed – but they seemed unable to move from the pile of twisted up and stained blankets. A group of collared skeletons soon converged on them, blocking Papyrus’s view.

As he was led into the corridor by the scarred skeleton from earlier, a mixture of guilt and satisfaction simmered in his soul. He had never done that before. No one had ever been able to keep up with his pace. He wondered just how long he had been going. Was it already morning? His soul did a flip in chest – how long had his _actual_ brother been waiting for him?

He was brought to a shower to scrub off all of the paint and liquid that tarnished his bones. Although he was meticulous in his efforts – there could be no evidence for his brother to find – he rushed to get every last bit off of him. He had to get back to his room before Sans blew up the entire hotel looking for him!

As soon as he was sure that he had done a decent job of it, he put on his clothes, which were hanging nearby, and rushed to leave. But when he approached the door, the scarred skeleton flung out their arm to block his way. They pointed to an empty seat and waved the “stop” signal at him. Papyrus crossed his arms against his chest, his soul screaming for him to barrel through the other skeleton, but he obeyed. He sat in the proffered chair and waited, his soul beating rapidly throughout.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, with a bow of their head, the scarred skeleton motioned for him to depart. Papyrus practically ran down the hall and through the lobby. Already the early morning light was cascading through the skylight and the early birds were up and about, waiting for the convention to get started for the day. He tumbled into the empty elevator and pressed the elevator button over and over, his patience wearing thin.

When he finally got to his room, he took a deep, calming breath. With trembling hands he unlocked the door and pushed it open. A calm hush washed over him as he entered the dark room. He hardly held back his sigh of relief as he heard his brother’s soft snores from the other bed. All at once, the exhaustion from his frenzied rush to get up to his bed and the evening’s events stole through his bones. He promptly lay down on the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers, as sleepiness tugged at his eyes.

Another year and he still hadn’t been caught. And this had been the best year yet.

He fell asleep, his soul warm in his chest, as listened to his brother’s snores.

\---

“SANS, WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!”

Papyrus was bouncing up and down on the bed, fully costumed and ready for the day.

Sans, however, was _not_. He didn’t think he could get out of bed if he tried. His bones were sore all over, especially his lower half. It felt as if he had just gotten over some illness and he just really didn’t think he could walk around the convention all day again. He buried himself under the blankets, trying to block out his brother’s energy.

“bro, come on, i’m tired.”

“YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO GO TO ALL OF THE EVENTS THAT I WANTED!” Papyrus whined. “TODAY IS THE LAST DAY!”

“bro, i’m serious. i think i’ve got con crud.”

It was far from the truth, but he couldn’t exactly admit what was really afflicting him.

When his brother stopped bouncing and didn’t speak for a few moments, Sans peeked out from under the covers. Papyrus was eyeing him with concern.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” He felt Sans’s head. “IF YOU WANT, I CAN STAY IN THE ROOM WITH YOU.”

Sans brushed his brother’s hand away. “nah, bro, you’ll miss your panels.”

“NONSENSE! I DO NOT CARE ABOUT PANELS IF YOU ARE ILL!”

Sans snuggled tighter into the bed. “i just need a little r and r, paps. it’s nothing to get worked up about.” Despite the intense achiness of his bones, he reached out a comforting hand and smiled. “really, go see your panels. i’m just gonna sleep.”

Papyrus fidgeted his fingers together. “ALRIGHT. IF YOU INSIST.” He stood up straight. “BUT I WILL BE COMING BACK TO CHECK ON YOU REGULARLY. SO YOU MAKE SURE THAT YOU GET PLENTY OF REST. I WILL NOT HESITATE TO TAKE YOU TO THE DOCTOR.”

Sans gave a sheepish grin. “of course. since when have i turned down an opportunity to sleep?”

His brother sighed and ruffled Sans’s head. “I KNOW, YOU LAZYBONES. BUT PLEASE… REST WELL.”

Sans closed his eyes and nodded, his soul wriggling with relief. Finally. Time to relax. After his long night, he was happy to just have some time to himself. Now he could sleep the day away without a care in the world.

He opened his eyes and made to wave goodbye at his brother, but as he lifted his hand, he froze. Papyrus was already heading for the door, his back turned towards him. And on the back of his brother’s skull, painted along the ridge, was a faded purple flower. There were streaks of water, or sweat, or something else running through it, but there was no mistaking the design. But it had to be a coincidence. There was no way that –

Papyrus twisted around and waved goodbye. “CALL ME IF YOU NEED ANYTHING!”

And with that he stepped outside, slamming the door behind him. Sans couldn’t move. He was stuck there, a singular thought plaguing his mind. It was an impossible thought. A horrible thought. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking it.

For the sake of his own sanity, he burrowed under the covers and tried not to think about it.


End file.
